


Provisional Education

by romanitas



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanitas/pseuds/romanitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth doesn't know how to drive.  Percy does.  It’s not often he’s the one giving lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provisional Education

Annabeth has done many great things in her life. She’s pretty sure making it out of Tartarus alive gives her a free pass on a lot of other things as well as topping said list of Important Achievements. But she’s a few weeks shy of eighteen, one of the oldest kids at Camp, and she still doesn’t know how to drive a car. 

She turned sixteen in the middle of a war, and the day itself had passed by relatively uneventful. She spent the summer at Camp, started going to school in Brooklyn, and New York City is practically built on public transportation. Between subways and buses and general traffic, commuting by car when you live there is edging on ridiculous, unless you’re leaving the city and going far beyond it. Besides, who would have taught her? Boarding schools full of nuns and girls who can’t drive either make for poor teachers. She didn’t even get her permit right away, having made the plans to do so over winter break, when she had more time. And then Percy went missing, so her time quickly became once again consumed with the affairs of the gods, in finding him, in preparations for another war barely half a year after the first was over. 

Searching for him and constructing the Argo II sort of became the priority over driving cars. And then a million things were the priority over driving cars, but she did learn how to steer a flying ship. Really, how much different could it be?

Apparently a lot different, is the begrudging admittance, as she finds herself behind the wheel of Paul’s prius with Percy in the passenger seat. 

How she let him talk her into this, she has no idea. Actually, that’s a total lie. No one else at Camp seemed to know she couldn’t drive, and though she wasn’t exactly _ashamed_ , excuses always fell into place conveniently; it’s not like demigods often kept a hold on cars anyway, with destruction rates as high as they were. But Percy knew. Because he’s Percy, and he knows just about everything about her, though it was always a non-issue. If there’s anyone she can trust with something she _doesn’t_ know, it’s him. 

It’s not like she could ask her dad. Or Chiron. Or anyone else. Percy’s been behind the wheel on and off since Paul let him drive illegally at fifteen – but when you’re off to save the world, being a fifteen year old driver is probably the least of anyone’s concern. Still, Annabeth danced around the favor for weeks once she realized she should probably learn, and it was Percy himself who – for once – seemed to pick up on it, asking her first. It was one of the new campers asking Annabeth for a ride into the city that triggered it, the furrowed look on her face that only he can recognize as frustration with missing information, and he volunteered Clarisse for it instead. (“Jackson, you _punk_ , you owe me. Again.”)

“Let me teach you how to drive.”

Simple, casual, absolutely nothing teasing or condescending, and maybe it helped that he’d spoken it in the morning, tangled in blankets and limbs with the curtains still pulled shut and the sun trying to peer through in vain. For having the ocean inside of him, he’s still very warm. “Okay,” she’d said, and a week later, here they were, on an empty stretch of back roads about twenty minutes outside Queens, but barely a mile from the ocean. 

His eyes are practically sparkling, and she can’t tell if it’s the aforementioned proximity to his home turf, or the secret pleasure at knowing something Annabeth does not (it’s a rare occurrence he needs to treasure while he can). Probably both. 

Her knuckles aren’t quite white, despite the tighter than necessary grip on the steering wheel. The vehicle’s not even moving yet, but she doesn’t want to mess this up. She’s not twelve years old and adamant about perfecting everything on the first try anymore, but there’s something about driving that she’s particularly determined over. 

“Make sure it’s in drive.”

“I know that!”

“But you haven’t moved it from park yet.”

“I know that, _too_ ,” she hisses, and one of her hands moves to the gear stick. She glances down, pressing her foot into the break like Percy told her to, and with three clicks, the prius shifts into drive. Her hand immediately jumps back to the wheel. Ignoring Percy for the moment, she glances around in her mirrors, adjusting the rear view for the umpteenth time. 

“Annabeth, as long as you can see out it, it’s fine,” he says calmly.

It’s such a weird manifestation of her ADHD, but it happens anyway. It needs to be perfect, and she hadn’t even realized she’d been moving it so much until he pointed it out. But just – one more adjustment, tilting the mirror slightly downward, and she’s finally satisfied. 

“When you’re ready, move to the gas pedal. Press gently.” 

It turns out she needs another thirty seconds, but she does just that; learning is easy for children of Athena, especially in something hands on. Or feet on. The car starts moving, creeping forward inch by inch because her current version of gentle is maybe a little too gentle. 

“You’re not driving a snail, you know.”

“Shut up!”

But it serves its purpose, because Annabeth presses her foot down a little harder, and the car goes faster. They’re only going in a straight line, but so far so good and even if it’s not much, she’s pleased with herself. She’s pretty sure taxis in a traffic jam go faster than they’re trucking along right now, but she needs to get used to everything. 

“Try turning the wheel.”

“But there aren’t any turns.” 

“Uh, duh. That’s why this is just practice.”

She grumbles something, but tentatively turns the steering wheel a fraction to the left. He beams at her, and something warm bubbles in her gut, because that look on his face is stupid. He distracts her a little too long, because then he’s glancing out at the road, and he puts one hand over hers, stopping the wheel in place. “Too much!”

Annabeth can feel her face burning. She’d lost her focus, staring at him all stupidly, and her hands continued turning the wheel far too much to the left, though at least it hadn’t been anything sudden or jerky. Still, she’s supposed to be _driving_ ; if Percy can handle distractions successfully on the road, so can she. 

She shoves his hand off, and her grip tightens again, a little determinedly. He chuckles, not with malice, but it huffs her up anyway. Without waiting for instructions, she steps on the gas again, a little harder, and starts down the road. They continue in silence for about half a mile, and then the road actually does start to curve. Her brain reacts, and with what she knows of the vehicle thus far, Annabeth calculates like she does best, and she turns the wheel successfully. 

Aside from the occasional instruction or remark from Percy, her first endeavor behind the wheel goes well. And of course (she doesn’t know why she hadn’t thought about it before), their end destination is literally alongside the beach. Percy unbuckles and slams over, one hand at her waist to tug so he can plant a kiss on her cheek. 

“That was perfect.” He looks so dumbly proud of her, and every word is infused with the kind of earnest honesty Percy Jackson obliviously perfected. 

“No it wasn’t,” she replies, but her face breaks into a smile anyway. “But I’ll do better next time.”

“I know you will.” 

And then he’s practically dragging her out of the car, bounding for the sand and surf; the water’s not all that warm this early in the summer, but he runs through the shallows anyway. When she scoffs at him, Annabeth finds herself being scooped up bridal style, and her shriek is a threat of death if he drops her in the ocean. 

He doesn’t, but he does kiss her a few times. She’s pretty okay with that. 

\- 

She refuses to drive anywhere but that back road until she gets more comfortable, and with the amount of times they end up at the beach after, Annabeth’s pretty sure Percy doesn’t mind. She’s beginning to suspect he scoped out the location on purpose. 

But one day: “I think you’re ready for a busier road.”

There’s a moment of panic, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. She’d been thinking about it, too, but wavered whether it was her own potentially dangerous self-confidence or actual preparedness. Having him bring it up first helps cement the latter (and she’s a lot more wary about the former since Rome). 

The car’s in park, so she turns to look at him, the grin on her face caught somewhere between awkward but pleased. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to try somewhere else. The same thing over and over isn’t going to help.”

His face brightens. “No more beach pitstops, but I guess I can let that slide.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. They switch off, though, Percy walking around to take the driver’s seat while she crawls over to the passenger, and he takes them both a little closer to the city. It’s still more suburban than urban, but Annabeth’s eyes are flashing around, studying the sights. “Shouldn’t I go somewhere I know for this part?” 

He drums his fingers on the wheel. “We could, if you want to. But technically, wouldn’t anywhere be unknown? Since you’ve never driven anywhere else before.” 

“Don’t be a smartass,” she chides. It was a genuine question, because she still wants and needs to do this right. 

He gets that, though. “Honestly, Annabeth, it’s up to you. You should know better than anyone that everyone learns differently.”

He’s right, of course. She hates when that happens. But she also knows she likes a challenge, and really, there aren’t many suburban areas this side of the United States she’s all that familiar with. So she urges him on, and he pulls over into a parking lot, hopping out so she can retake the driver’s seat. 

It takes her another five minutes to psych herself up to pull _out_ of said parking lot, but Percy doesn’t pressure or tease her; he has a surprising amount of patience in this, for which she’s infinitely grateful. Admitting she doesn’t know how to do something is difficult enough without the teacher reminding her of it. 

The road is hers alone for three stop signs and two left hand turns, and she settles comfortably into the beat of it. The occasional glance at Percy’s face tell her he’s got a near constant smile, and it almost makes her smile, too. If only she wasn’t concentrating so hard. 

The blue sedan comes up slowly behind her; she watches it in the rear view mirror, moving from bug sized to a car’s length behind her. She’s struck with a wave of nerves, because, well, the speed limit’s 40 and she’s only going 35. What if they get annoyed? What if they start tailgating? What if they drive by and flip her off and she swerves to avoid them and crashes into a line of trashbins, denting Paul’s prius? He’d never speak to her again.

Except the prius took a Pegasus to the hood and survived, and the sedan stays patiently behind her. She breathes a little easily, chastising herself as she pulls up to another stop sign. 

“Go right,” Percy says, even though he’d originally said go left earlier. A glance in the side mirror shows the sedan’s blinker is on left, and she realizes he noticed her mini thought train of panic, changed the route to account for it, but in a way that didn’t draw attention to it. A part of her immediately thinks to get annoyed, but when she turns right and the sedan goes left, she only feels relief. 

He’s a jerk and she loves him. 

-

She masters suburbia quickly enough. Maybe not _masters_ , but she gets comfortable navigating the streets after a few short weeks. She even starts to remember the routes a lot more easily; she and Percy have taken to stopping at a little local gas station often enough that the owner gives them free ice cream when she’s in a good mood. 

Her first real issue in a while is when she’s cruising along at full speed up to a traffic light, and the green turns into yellow. She looks at the light, the road, tries to calculate if she has enough time to get through before it turns red, but the rush of it makes the conclusion an impossibility. It makes her nervous, and she presses on the gas, with the aim of continuing straight on through. Only the closer she gets, the more she starts to freak out, and when she’s at the light’s doorstep, Annabeth slams her foot on the breaks, hard. She’s surprised the car doesn’t screech with the sudden stop, but she’s wincing anyway as the prius jerks and the seatbelt cuts into her chest; Percy flies forward, held back by his own seatbelt, but it doesn’t stop a low, long “Owww,” from slipping out of his mouth. 

She looks over at him in a bit of a panic, but he’s not actually hurt, so she turns her eyes back on the road and traffic light, now winking at her in red. Her hands are holding the wheel tightly, and she’s just glad there wasn’t another car behind her, too. “Sorry, it – I wasn’t sure if I could make it.”

Percy blows out a puff of air. “Okay, next time that happens? It’s safer to just go straight through. Even if you aren’t sure, and especially if you’re already gunning it.”

“I wasn’t _gunning_ –”

“Even if you catch the tail end of the red light,” he continues, interrupting her without hesitation and making her huff up, “no one’s gonna be far enough across the road to hit you. It doesn’t automatically turn green on the other side, there’s always a bit of time.”

Her fingers tighten more, and she avoids looking at him, staring at the light and willing it telepathically to turn back to green. 

Percy’s staring at her, though, she can feel it. He drums his fingers on the windowsill. “You just kind of have to get a feel for yellow light timing, depending on how far away you are. And don’t try to math it out either, you won’t have time for that.”

She doesn’t answer him, because she refuses to acknowledge that he’d caught on to that as her first intention. The light finally turns green though, and Annabeth removes her foot from the break, pressing the prius onward. 

“Don’t worry. You’ve got this, Annabeth.”

She doesn’t acknowledge that either, beyond a grimace of determination and a _damn right I do_ in her mind. 

-

Annabeth has improved a lot with all the practice, once spring rolls around again. She can tell, especially when she thinks about first starting out. Her parking is still a little shaky, and sometimes she takes her turns a little too slow. Old habits die hard, and she falls into them easily – something Percy doesn’t miss, hasn’t missed. 

Her expression turns a shade too contemplative as she looks at the turn and traffic light coming up, and she catches the way he eyes her warily. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to calculate – ”

“Please don’t calculate while you’re driving, Annabeth, we’ve been over this.”

-

When Annabeth decides she’s ready to try the interstate, she has one request: Sally Jackson as another passenger. She agrees, of course, and happily – which works out in her favor, because there’s no way Annabeth wants to drive on the busier parts of the LIE nearest the city. She and Percy need to head to Camp for the weekend anyway, so Sally drives them most of the way before taking an exit about fifteen minutes passed Ronkonkoma and finding a spot to pull over to let Annabeth into the driver’s seat. 

Sally is patient while Annabeth gears herself up, and Percy lounges in the back, fidgeting like he wants to be the one in the passenger seat instead of his mom. She’s had plenty of practice behind the wheel at this point – just not on a major highway. 

It’s the merging that makes her the most nervous, but Sally quietly offers some advice, and Percy leans between the seats to do the same. It helps, having them both there, so by the time she turns the wheel into the proper lane and flicks off the turn-signal, Annabeth has successfully gotten onto the expressway. She urges the car faster, to hit the speed limit and keep with the flow of traffic (which fortunately, isn’t all that busy at the moment). 

“I always found the highways easier,” Sally says with a smile, paying careful attention to the way she’s driving without making it overt. It’s better that way, Annabeth thinks. “There’s very little turning, and most of the more reckless drivers tend to stay on the left.” 

“That explains Percy’s preferences,” she grins.

“Hey!”

Both Sally and Annabeth laugh, but the lightness of it all helps calm her nerves. Percy starts talking about he is absolutely _not_ a reckless driver, thank you very much, listing all the safe decisions he’s made and how impressed the instructor was when he took his road test. And it’s true, no matter how much they tease him. Driving came naturally to Percy, which wasn’t all that surprising either, the more Annabeth thought about it. There’s a lot of it that’s about instinct, about making snap judgments – and really, that’s pretty much Percy’s life in a nutshell. 

Annabeth starts out the drive sitting stiffly, but Sally talks at her gently, alternating between telling stories and offering advice. By the time they reach the end of the LIE, Annabeth is infinitely more comfortable and relaxed, confident enough to actually keep driving. She’s acutely aware of the choice, but she doesn’t say it aloud, almost as if doing so will break her confidence. 

The streets pan out the closer they get to Camp Half-Blood, and Annabeth’s face is breaking into a smile that gets wider and wider. By the time the strawberry fields are in view, she feels like she could burst out laughing in her success. 

When she pulls over and parks, Sally leans across the middle and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulders in a hug. “You did beautifully, Annabeth,” she says, with the same kind of honesty her son is so fond of. 

She sputters out a thank you as they all climb out of the car, and Percy practically teleports over, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her on the cheek. “You’re gonna leave me in the dust soon, you know that, right?”

Annabeth shoves him away, moving to the trunk to take out her bag, but the smile on her face is far from dissipated. “I do that all the time anyway, Seaweed Brain.”

-

There’s no one else to take her for her actual road test despite it being summer break, and considering Percy is the one who’s been primarily teaching her, he’s the one who drives her there. He’d asked if she wanted to get in some last bit of practice and drive herself, but she refused, sitting in the passenger seat and mumbling the rules and regulations from the DMV handbook under her breath. 

When Percy pulls into a parking spot, before he even unbuckles, he leans over and puts his hand over hers. “Annabeth.”

Her eyes snap onto his, and she can’t even be mad at the way his touch calms her nerves the slightest bit. 

“My mom failed her first test. Lots of people do.”

She jerks her hand away. “Is that supposed to help me feel better?”

He reaches for it again, weaving his fingers through hers. “It’s supposed to say don’t psych yourself out. Some of the testers are bad testers, too, no matter how good you do. And you _are_ ready for this, I know you are.”

She breathes in sharply and squeezes his hand. “Yeah. I am.” 

He leans in, steals a kiss, then gives her a shove to get out of the car. Paul graciously agreed to let her use the prius for her road test, and she’s been trying to figure out some kinda gift to pick up as thanks, regardless of pass or fail. 

Annabeth can’t remember playing the waiting game for her turn, beyond bouncing back and forth on her feet, beyond Percy taking her hand and swinging it to steady her. She barely even remembers getting in the car when the instructor called her name. 

She does remember almost every detail of the test itself, every turn of the wheel, every click of the turn-signal. Every moment she thought she reacted too slow, or too fast, every switch between gas and break pedal, while the instructor just jotted down notes and told her where to drive. She’s surprisingly calm on the roads, her demeanor focused and precise, but not too stiff to suggest she’s a ball of nerves. Then again, she’s always done some of her best work under pressure. 

When she pulls into a stop at the end of the test, she feels like her impatience is going to burst open her chest, wonders if the silence from the instructor is a good sign, or a bad sign. She usually has a good read on people, but the woman sitting next to her is impassive on a practiced level. 

Finally, she rips off a piece of paper and passes it over. “Congratulations, Miss Chase. You’ve passed. Your real license will arrive in the mail over the next few weeks.”

It’s all she can do to keep herself from squealing, and she feels kind of stupid for the urge, but she takes the temporary license in her hands with a surge of pride. She looks back and forth between it and the instructor, not really sure how to react. Does she say thank you? 

But then the woman is climbing out of the car, and Annabeth scrambles to follow suit. She catches sight of Percy waiting on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking just as anxious outwardly as she felt the whole time. 

She thinks she probably could have handled it a lot more smoothly, walked up cool and casual to give him the news. But Annabeth bursts into a sprint, her laughter trailing behind her, and Percy doesn’t even have to wait for the words to know she’s succeeded, rushing to meet her halfway. 

Annabeth practically jumps at him, and his arms come around her waist as he spins her around in the hug. “I knew you could do it!” he says, laughing alongside her. 

“I passed!” She only says it because doing so out loud really makes it concrete. The words are out there and can’t be taken back.

When her feet are planted firmly on the ground, Percy takes her face in his hands and kisses her, simultaneously soft and eager, and she kisses him back a little harder than she meant to. But she can’t really help it right now. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, without a trace of teasing. 

She beams, pressing her forehead to his. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Uh, that’s a lie. You totally could have.” He kisses her again, once. “I just happened to be a pretty good teacher, so I guess you lucked out. I’ll take my payment in cash or kisses.”

She laughs, punching him lightly in the arm, but she kisses him again anyway, thinks about continuing to kiss him, and then thinks they should probably get back in the car before she’s retroactively failed on too much PDA. 

She drives the prius back to the Jackson-Blowfis apartment with the taste of victory and the sounds of Percy’s constant radio channel surfing. Annabeth has been nineteen for just over two weeks, and after so many years of wondering if she ever even would, she finally has her license. It’s a good feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> percy learns how to drive and gets his license before annabeth and you can't take that away from me!!


End file.
